


Birthday

by fawatson



Category: The Charioteer - Mary Renault
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurie meets Gyp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally Posted to:** maryrenaultfics on LiveJournal on 01/05/2008  
>  **Disclaimer:** I don’t own these characters and make no profit from them

Laurie woke early on Sunday, too excited to sleep longer. His eyes opened to the shadow of dawn. There was still a faint chill to the room and he shivered as his feet touched the cold floor before he found his slippers and headed for the lavatory. Mum wouldn’t be up for a while, nor Aunt Olive. After brushing his teeth he headed to the kitchen, trying to move quietly. It was Sunday and today would be his special birthday celebration day. He’d actually turned twelve three days before, but that was a school day and Mum had decreed they’d celebrate today instead. Aunt Olive had come on Wednesday and was staying until later this afternoon. Great-Uncle Edward would be coming for dinner. A special meal had been planned. He’d asked for a chocolate cream sponge for a birthday cake – no sugary baby cake for him now he was twelve. _Then_ he’d get his presents! 

Laurie had high hopes this year. He always got nice presents, an assortment of small gifts from Mum and the rest of the family, but it was the _big_ present he was really waiting for. Two years ago he’d been taken into London for a special treat to see Pirates of Penzance. That had been grand. He had lovely memories of that scene with the pirates and policemen on opposite sides of the stage, all bright colours and cheery music. He remembered singing the songs over and over on the way home until, in exasperation, Mum had told him quite sharply to be quiet. _Last_ year he got a bicycle and that had been even better. He used it almost every day after school, going off exploring with his friend Simon. However, _this year_ ... he’d been overhearing things all week, grown up conversations, hastily hushed when they realised he might be listening. Yes, high hopes. 

Laurie made himself some tea and went back to bed to read quietly until everyone else woke up. He lost himself in the adventures of Robin Hood. In his mind he fought alongside Robin, just like Little John and Friar Tuck. Dumas told a cracking good tale. He could almost see the sword fights. Mum eventually called him to get up for breakfast and he made short work of boiled egg and toast soldiers, before getting washed and dressed for church. 

It was hard to concentrate during warm-up today and the choirmaster spoke sharply to him as he daydreamed before service. During the sermon his hands traced the carving in the misericord under his seat. It was a little dog curled with his tail in his mouth. His thoughts drifted off again in hope until a sharp jab from the neighbouring boy’s elbow brought him back to himself and he looked up to see the choirmaster’s glare. Laurie stood hastily and turned his sheet music to the right place as the organ played the introduction to the next hymn. The congregation trailed past in two lines as they queued for communion. Laurie did his best to concentrate and look solemn, the way he knew he was supposed to.

After the service Laurie hastily disrobed before joining his mother and Aunt Olive in the church yard. They were discussing with the vicar what to plant on his grandparents’ grave. Bored, Laurie wandered off. His friend Simon was clambering on one of the graves opposite and Laurie joined him. 

“So what’d you get?” asked Simon.

“Don’t know yet,” was the reply. “Normally, I’d open presents after tea, but Great-Uncle Edward’s driving over for dinner this afternoon, so I get to open them early this year.”

“After tea!” came the astonished response from Simon, mystified by the peculiarities of a family not his own. “I couldn’t wait that long. I always get them at breakfast.”

“I’d never thought of presents at breakfast before,” said Laurie, equally surprised. 

The two boys were silent for a moment, contemplating strange new ideas. 

“Our Sally’s pups will be ready to go in a couple of weeks. There’s one not spoken for if your Mum will let you have it,” said Simon. 

To Laurie’s great envy, Simon had his own dog, a beautiful collie, and she’d had puppies a few weeks before. She was his own dog too, not just one of the farm dogs. She worked on the farm, of course, but she also normally accompanied Simon on his expeditions with Laurie. Not in the last few weeks, as she’d been busy with her litter, but that had been all right too. Laurie had gone over to the farm to visit several times each week to help Simon with the pups. 

“I asked her again but she said no.” Laurie had been deeply disappointed but Mum had explained how a collie really was a farm dog and not suitable for their home. Unbeknownst to her, Laurie had also overheard Mum talking to Aunt Olive earlier this week about clumsy big dog’s tails knocking over things, and long hair and cleaning, and how impossible it all would be when Laurie went off to school and she was left to take care of it. When he’d heard that he had abandoned plans to try to convince her to let him have one of Sally’s pups, although he still hoped she would agree to a different dog. They’d been discussing something when he got in from school the other day. He _thought_ he’d heard something about it needing to be male before they’d suddenly fallen silent when the front door slammed shut. 

“I heard her talking the other day. It _sounded_ as if she might be talking about a different dog but I couldn’t be sure,” said Laurie. He had a niggling worry that talking about it might jinx things but he was also too excited to keep silent.

“Well I heard Dad say Mr Simmons had some dogs ready.” Simon was a fount of information about the local farming community. “He breeds them – lives out the East Road. Dad said they’re good steady ones. You’ve got to choose a breeder carefully, Dad says, so you get a reliable animal.” Clearly Simon was parroting his father but he sounded very knowledgeable to Laurie who nodded agreement. If he did get a dog for his birthday he wanted Simon to be impressed. He had visions of two boys and two dogs happily going on long rambles together once school let out that summer, his own dog in the lead. 

“Laurie, we’re going now,” called his mother. “Don’t stay too long playing with Simon. Dinner will be in half an hour.” 

_Playing_ , thought Laurie. _How_ could she - when he was _twelve_!

He looked at Simon, but fortunately his friend didn’t seem to have noticed. Instead he was watching the bees busily swarming around the honeysuckle. 

“Dad says that’s going to be my job this summer.”

“Job?” queried Laurie. It sounded very grown-up. 

“Minding the beehives,” said Simon, nodding towards the tree at the side of the copse bordering the churchyard. “He says it will be a good chance to learn and I can keep the earnings too. Good motivation he calls it.”

The particular bees Simon was pointing to were wild, but his family farm also kept a few hives and sold the resulting jars of honey to local shops. Summer also brought local fairs, at which Simon, like the rest of the family, would take turns manning a stall selling farm produce.

“That’ll be good,” said Laurie, thinking of the treats he could buy if he had extra from a summer job.

“Mmmn, I’ll need it for when I go up to the grammar school.”

“Oh,” said Laurie. The thought of saving money had never occurred to him.

“You’re still going to that posh school next year?”

“Yes,” said Laurie. 

“I just can’t picture it,” said Simon, “being sent away from home like that.”

“It’s where my uncle went, and my grandfather when he was a boy.”

“Oh well, there’s no helping it then,” said Simon, comfortably accepting family traditions. Next year Simon would himself be following in his father’s footsteps at Leeds Grammar School, and he had every expectation of going on to the agricultural college at Leeds University when he was older.

“Simon, it’s time to go.” His mother hailed him as she walked briskly towards them. “How are you, Laurie?” 

“Very well, thank you, Mrs Harrison.”

“And your mother and auntie? I saw them in church; they looked well.”

“Yes thank you, Mrs Harrison; they are both fine.”

To both boys’ horror, while this politeness was exchanged, she took out her handkerchief, moistened it with her spit and reached over to scrub at a spot of dirt she’d noticed on her son’s cheek. Simon’s head jerked back in reflex as, with one maternal gesture, he was reduced from the brink of independence to childhood again. Laurie looked on in sympathy. Oblivious to their reactions, she bustled off, taking her son with her. 

Laurie slowly made his way home. He had some sense of changes unfolding around him. It was a little unsettling. Home was reassuringly the same though. Familiar sounds and smells were waiting for him as he came through the front door.

“That was good timing,” Mum said. “The meal is just ready. Go and say hello to Great-Uncle Edward, and wash your hands, while Aunt Olive and I finish serving.”

As he sat down at the table Laurie eyed the presents that sat beside his place. There were two small rectangular ones, alongside one medium sized soft parcel. 

Lucy smiled as she watched him. “You must eat your meal first, Laurie, but then you may open presents before we have cake.” 

Dinner was good. The special meal he had chosen, roast beef with all the trimmings, had been cooking while they’d been at church. Not an everyday meal, it was one to savour. Nonetheless it was a relief when he could turn to his presents. The soft parcel proved to be a new cardigan, knitted by Aunt Olive. Laurie thanked her dutifully and put it to one side. The other two were books. Mum had given him _Puck of Pook’s Hill_. He looked quickly at the first few pages. It seemed to be about poetry and fairies and he hastily put it down. Mum must be forgetting he was too old now for that sort of thing. Even so he thanked her before turning to the one from Great-Uncle Edward. _Kidnapped_ by Robert Louis Stevenson. That was more like it. He’d enjoyed _Treasure Island_ last year. It was a good choice. His smile to Great-Uncle Edward was genuine and relieved. You never could quite trust what relatives would get you. 

Then Lucy turned to him. “Laurie, your big present this year is a dog. Great Uncle Edward has agreed to drive us over this afternoon to pick him up.” 

Laurie’s eyes lit up. “A dog! Thank you, Mum. Where’s he from?”

“I made arrangements with one of the local farmers,” said Lucy. “ _Not_ your friend Simon’s family,” she added hastily. “That wouldn’t do. It will be quite a small dog, Laurie, but I think you’ll be pleased.” 

Laurie nodded eagerly. “When are we going?”

“After cake,” said Lucy. 

“Oh Mum, can’t we go now and have cake when we get back?” 

“I suppose so, if you really want.”

However, to his dismay, Laurie had to help clear the table and stack the dishes by the sink before they were finally ready to leave. Laurie’s excitement grew as Great-Uncle Edward’s car finally rolled down the road. Would they... Yes! They were going in the right direction. He bounced in the back seat, unable to contain himself. 

“Do sit still, Laurie!” Lucy complained as his knees jostled the back of her seat.

Aunt Olive looked across from the seat beside him, shaking her head slightly. 

Laurie sighed. Birthday surprises didn’t make it easy. You’d think grown-ups would understand that. After a short while the car turned in at a farm gate. Laurie’s anticipation peaked as he read the sign at the entrance: Simmons Kennels. As they went up the long drive he could see the large farmhouse and its lower outbuildings perched halfway up the hillside. Mr Simmons came out to greet them as the car came to a halt near the front door and they all got out. 

“Mum, can I go look at the dogs?” Laurie asked.

“ _May_ I, Laurie, _may_ I.”

Laurie flushed in embarrassment. He hadn’t made that mistake in a long time. It was just so difficult to be correct today. Great-Uncle Edward winked at him. 

“Let him go, Lucy,” he said “you have paperwork to deal with first and he’ll only be bored.”

“Yes, let him go.” Unexpected support came from Mr Simmons who added, “One of the bitches just had a litter three days ago, and I guess he’d like to see that. She’s off to one side on her own. All the others are outside in the runs.” Lucy gave a doubtful nod, at which he turned to Laurie, pointing, “The kennels are over there on the left. Now don’t go into her pen, mind. The puppies are too little and she’ll not being wanting a boy near them. And don’t be messing with the rest of the dogs outside.”

“No indeed, sir,” said Laurie politely before he raced off. 

As he rounded the corner of the kennels, he could see the dog runs just beyond. Inside, he looked carefully along the rows. There was the bitch with her puppies that he’d been told about. She looked at him warningly as he glanced in, but he wasn’t really interested in them. They were too young. It was interesting how they’d been born on the same day as his birthday earlier this week, but he knew _they_ weren’t for him, so he passed them quickly. There were several empty pens and Laurie began to be a bit anxious, until further along, separate from the rest and round another corner, he saw him. 

The puppy was small, with short woolly hair, and a stubby little tail... so far so good. The little dog didn’t notice the boy watching him carefully. He was too busy scratching at the bottom plank between his pen and the next, trying to get through to some scattered food on the other side. Laurie smiled as he rolled over, showing his tummy as he pushed his nose and paws hard at the barrier. Yes, a male; _definitely_ he was the one. Old enough to be left on his own without his mother, and... well he was the _only_ one on his own. All the others were outside (except for the bitch and her newborn pups). He knew Mr Simmons would have put _his_ dog to one side for collection. 

Carefully Laurie bent over the side of the other pen and scooped up the food the puppy had been trying to get. Then slowly he lifted the latch and entered the pen, going down on his knees as he did so. Gently now... careful... he mustn’t frighten the puppy. He stretched out his right hand, offering a little food on his open palm. The puppy had abandoned his scratching alerted by the noise of the opening gate. He crouched down, belly low to the ground as he watched the boy enter. His nose quivered as he sniffed the air and his body shivered nervously. He didn’t know this smell.... 

Laurie had a few anxious moments as the little dog remained wary. _Would_ he be friendly? Laurie knew he needed to be patient really. Simon always said you needed to let animals come to you, but it was so hard to sit quietly. Laurie had read story books where they’d said things like “his heart was in his mouth.” He’d always thought they were silly before. Now he knew they were true. Then slowly the puppy approached, wary but attracted by the inviting aroma of the food and Laurie’s still posture. His whiskers tickled as he snuffled at Laurie’s hand. Laurie twitched and he bit his lip in the effort to keep his hand still. Treat eaten, the puppy looked up at the boy, liquid brown eyes begging as he whined for more. He wagged his tail hopefully.

Laurie brought his other hand out from behind his back, and opened his fingers to show the rest of the food. The puppy shuffled around on his bottom to reach the other hand. Food eaten, he continued to lick the hand that had fed him, seeking the last remnants. Laurie cautiously lifted his right hand to stroke the puppy’s head. There was a moment when the puppy seemed to gather himself and Laurie was afraid he would back away. Then the little body relaxed. This dog had never known anything but good care and Laurie’s gentleness had paid off. He trusted him. Laurie continued to stroke his puppy’s ears, examining him with his eyes. How beautiful he was; his fur was so soft. His mouth opened to reveal a long pink tongue; Laurie would swear the puppy was smiling as he looked at his new master.

The puppy rolled onto his back, his legs splayed open exposing his tummy. Obligingly Laurie scratched softly at his chest and stroked the soft belly. The little dog wriggled back and forth in pleasure a few times, and then, having rolled over again, got to his feet and pounced on Laurie’s lap. He burrowed his nose, sniffing Laurie’s crotch. Delighted at this display of affection, Laurie cuddled the puppy close, then picked him up and took him out from the kennels into the beckoning sunshine. 

The grass was still slightly damp from the previous evening’s rainfall but Laurie was oblivious to this as he rolled on the ground beside his dog, playing games. He took off his belt and trailed it along the ground for the puppy to pounce on. 

“What have we here?” It was Mr Simmons voice. 

Laurie looked round to see him standing with all the family looking down at the pair. Laurie’s face was shining with joy. “Mum, he’s just perfect.”

“Oh Laurie,” Lucy’s voice echoed her disappointment as she viewed him. That clean and neatly turned out boy who had started out the day was no more. In his place sat a child with mussed hair, his white shirt smeared with the puppy’s saliva, his trousers damp and dirty. One previously polished shoe now had a streak of mud along its side.

Laurie felt sudden unease as he realised his mother was frowning at the puppy beside him. Beside her was a small smooth-haired Jack Russell on a lead – not a puppy, but a fully grown, fully trained dog. Aunt Olive looked sympathetic, which he knew wasn’t a good sign. Crouching down beside him, Great-Uncle Edward put his hand out for the puppy to sniff. 

“Who’s this then, Laurie?” he asked quietly. 

Laurie rushed to break the tense silence which had developed as all eyes looked at him. “He was the only one on his own, Great-Uncle Edward, and he’s a boy and he’s little and he has short hair...” Laurie’s voice trailed off as the awareness he had made a mistake sank in. They _couldn’t_ be separated _now_ surely. 

“He’s small now but he’ll grow into quite a big dog later, Laurie,” said Great-Uncle Edward, gently. 

“Well now, that’s debatable,” said Mr Simmons in the slow drawl common to the local farmers, “seeing as how he was the runt of the litter. Sometimes they catch up and sometimes they don’t. Anyway, no one wanted that one, so I was just going to get rid of him. I’d forgotten I’d left him inside so I could deal with it this afternoon.”

Laurie was horrified and looked between his puppy and Mr Simmons in shock. Get _rid_ of him! _This afternoon!_ He turned pleading eyes to his mother. His bottom lip quivered. 

“Mum, _please_. I’ll be ever so good, I promise. You can’t just let him be put down!”

“But, Laurie, he’s too big and his hair is too long. He’ll shed all over the carpets. Don’t you want this lovely little chap? Just look at him.” 

“But Mum...” To his horror Laurie found his throat was tight and his eyes were filling with tears, as if he were a baby!

“You haven’t even _looked_ at him, Laurie.” Lucy’s voice held that sweetly reasonable tone she used every year when arguing with the women’s circle over the organisation of the church fete. 

Laurie’s heart sank, but valiantly he tried one last time. “His hair isn’t _really_ long, Mum, not like a collie. And I’ll brush him every day.”

“Laurie you say that now, but we both know in a few weeks you’ll have lost interest. It isn’t fair on the dog.”

“Now Lucy, that’s not fair.” Unanticipated support came from Great-Uncle Edward as he stood up beside Laurie’s mother. “He’s been aching for a dog for years now. Of course he'll take care of it, if he says so.” 

He looked sternly down at Laurie, who looked back solemnly. “You are giving your word now; an Englishman’s word is his bond.”

“Oh _yes_!” Laurie said with heartfelt sincerity.

“Well then...” Great Uncle Edward spoke decisively, and he moved to face Lucy. 

There was a long pause as all other eyes also turned to Lucy. Aunt Olive patted Lucy’s shoulder supportively, but the look on her face made it clear where her vote lay.

There was a brief delay before Lucy nodded. “You can keep him Laurie.” Her face was resigned. 

“Oh Mum you are the _best_!” cried Laurie as he jumped up to hug her. The puppy added his approval with high pitched barks, jumping up and down by Laurie’s knee. Laurie sat down again and gathered his dog onto his lap. Excited, the puppy reached up to lick him. 

“Not on the face, Laurie,” said Lucy repressively, “It’s so unhygienic.”

“Yes Mum,” said Laurie, obediently pushing the dog back down to the ground but continuing to stroke his ears and rub along his back to his tail.

“Well I guess we’ll need to redo the paperwork,” said Mr Simmons, “and I’ll get you the right size collar and lead for him.” Lucy and Great-Uncle Edward and the unwanted Jack Russell trailed off in his wake but Aunt Olive stayed behind.

“What are you going to call him, Laurie?” she asked. 

He looked at her carefully, but it was all right. She smiled and kneeled down nearby, while holding her hand out for the puppy to sniff. 

“I don’t know yet.” He confided, “I think I should get to know him a bit first, don’t you? At least that’s what Simon always says.” He was a bit doubtful Aunt Olive would understand. She was even older than Mum and she had cats and even _they_ were old. He didn’t think she’d be very good at knowing what a dog needed.

“Very wise,” she agreed. “He looks very clever,” she added. 

“He’s the _best_ ,” Laurie agreed proudly. 

“He’ll be a lot of work, Laurie” she said. 

“I know,” he replied, the satisfaction evident in his voice. “I’ll have to walk him and brush him and feed him and sometimes he’ll get into trouble and I’ll have to tell him off, just as Mum does with me. But he’ll be _mine_ , Aunt Olive, _all_ mine.”

“Yes indeed,” she replied “and you’ll be his.”

At this Laurie looked up, and was surprised to realise Aunt Olive understood after all. 

“Come on, Laurie” she said, “we’d best be getting back to the car.”

The grand tug of war between boy and dog was curtailed. Laurie wiped puppy drool off the belt and threaded it back through the loops on his trousers, before returning his now sodden handkerchief to his pocket. He accompanied Aunt Olive back towards the house to join the rest of the family and Mr Simmons. 

The new collar and lead were presented ceremoniously to Laurie who sat down to cuddle his puppy while he fastened them. Then he stood, still holding his new companion in his arms, enjoying the feel of warm fur snuggling close. Inadvertently Laurie squeezed the little dog tighter. The excitement was just too much. A pungent odour filled the air as the squirming puppy released a stream of urine down the front of Laurie’s best trousers. 

Lucy closed her eyes in despair. It was, she felt sure, just the first of many accidents. She’d told Olive it was a mistake letting Laurie come with them to the farm. But Uncle Edward had maintained he couldn’t pick up the dog on his way to the house and Olive had pointed out how impossible it would be to leave Laurie at home while they went to collect the animal. In the end Lucy had given in. Just look at the result.

Laurie laughed, oblivious. _His_ dog now. He turned his body away on a slight angle so his mother wouldn’t notice the puppy licking his face as he got into the rear seat of the car. Boy and dog were united forever and the world was golden.


End file.
